The Molly Hooper's Romance
by momofletti
Summary: Moriarty is back and his first destination is Molly. Moriarty still believed that aside of Molly's abundant sacrifice, Sherlock still doesn't think of her as truly important. "You'll be my toy, who'll do everything I wish. Because you know deep down that Sherlock wouldn't really care about you." Molliarty or Sherlolly? Which do you prefer? For the moment, I think T is enough.
1. Chapter 1

**Because in each of their own way, Molly and Sherlock are the same lonely broken persons, will they truly find their way into each other? Molly loves Sherlock. Sherlock feels the need to settle. What is intended to be a marriage of convenient which supposedly based solely on common respect and no attraction (on Sherlock part)… Well, let's just say, it turned to be not what it is intended. Set after Sherlock was shot by Marry in HLV. **

She knew that he would never have feelings for her, feelings as in a man feels a woman. Now she knew that he did see her. He respected her. He liked her. But he would never desire her. He would never crave her. He would never be hurt because of her. He would never think of her when he didn't need her. And that was so sad. For all Molly wanted was that Sherlock had thought of her and bothered to ask John to tell her. That was all she had hoped. But of course, Sherlock didn't.

Molly Hooper cringed at the telly screen that showed about Sherlock Holmes's – yet again – near dead experience. "Sherlock Holmes was shot and is now in a critical condition," the anchorman spoke with a grim face.

Molly bit her lip. She supposed she still wasn't included to the need to know list about Sherlock Holmes's well-being even though they shared a deep bound when he was 'dead.' Well, it wasn't entirely anybody's fault since she supposed to have 'moved on' and be happy ever after. But nevertheless the realization that she was still unimportant for Sherlock made her heart ached. _Just a little_, she stubbornly tried to argue with herself.

She called Aimee, the hospital's receptionist and was told that Sherlock was still unconscious. Molly thanked her and walked to the treatment wing. She knew that she didn't have a valid reason to be there just yet. She was nobody for Sherlock. _Fool, you are his friend. You have every right to be there. Besides, he is in St. Bart, you are in St. Bart, it is just an appropriate thing to show up,_ her mind argued. Molly smiled and felt a little lighter. _True, if nothing else, I am still his friend_.

Molly found a devastated John, anxious Marry, nervous Mrs. Hudson and the bridesmaid for Marry and John's wedding. "Hi," she greeted them.

John looked up and felt a little pang of guilt looking at the shy pathologist. "Molly. I'm sorry I haven't… I didn't think… I mean, it happened so fast. I…" he looked so at lost that Molly felt pity towards him.

"It's fine. How is he?" she asked. _What is she doing here?_ She felt an excruciating pang in her stomach. _Stop, Molly. It's none of your business._

"He is still unconscious. But the doctor said that he's not in a critical condition anymore," Marry replied.

Molly nodded and turned to John who seemed like hadn't slept in days. "He was lucky you were there," she said.

"I cannot afford to lose him again, Molly. You don't know the pain of losing him–" John stopped abruptly, realizing the painful expression, the longing, the love in Molly's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Why are you sorry?" Molly asked, confused. But that moment, involuntarily a tear fell down her cheek. "Oh," she said. She hadn't felt the pain coming. "I'm sorry," she chuckled nervously and walked backwards, the tears are on the verge of pouring. _Damn, when it rains, it pours_. "I should go… I just wanna know how he's doing."

John was at lost and shocked about her crying. _Stupid Molly! S_he spat mentally. Marry stepped and said, "I'll call you when he's awake."

Molly nodded and walked away. She half ran to the morgue, her sanctuary. She was glad that they haven't bothered to give her an assistant. She inhaled deeply and tried to get rid of the thick fog in her head. "I shouldn't have come," she said to nobody. She chuckled and laughed. _Stupid. Why would you want to be there when he's awake? Do you think he will think about you, need to see you? There's no difference to him whether you're there or not. He doesn't care. _

"It's true. Whatever," she said to nobody. Molly wiped her tears and started to get to work. _I managed my whole life without Sherlock Holmes. I'll manage the rest of it without him. _

Molly had just finished the autopsy of a 33 years old woman named Kate Blanchard. She was found dead inside her 2 million pounds apartment in the heart of London. From the autopsy she concluded that Kate had drink a poison, thus it was a suicide. "How can you kill yourself, dear beautiful Kate? What is it you don't have?" _Bitten nail. Soft smell of expensive perfume. Expensive clothing. No wedding ring. Dressed to impress. Kitten._ She affectionately stroke Kate's black hair and sighed. "It seems what you don't have is the same as what I don't have," she bitterly spoke. "In the end, we don't have love."

Molly left the morgue early to visit Sherlock. John called and said that Sherlock's operation had been successful. She hoped to see him asleep, but there was that gorgeous girl in Sherlock's chamber, the bridesmaid. She was very attractive and suddenly Molly felt self-conscious about her appearance.

The girl sat on Sherlock's bed and the detective didn't seem to mind. If anything, he looked please with the company. He smiled and chatted happily with her. The girl leaned towards Sherlock… and Molly hurriedly turned around. Molly's stomach suddenly pained and she decided that it wasn't the right time to visit Sherlock.

888

_That Janine was cruel. She purposefully withheld the morphine. Well, I guess I kinda deserved it. _Sherlock Holmes chuckled at the thought. _Now about Marry Watson, what to do with her?_

_Why are the women around me some kind of psychopaths? _Sherlock thought_. Well, not exactly. There is still Molly. Where is she? Why didn't she visit me? _

888

Christmas was always the worst for Molly. She was all alone in the world after her father passed away. Her mother passed away giving her birth and she was an only child. So she was alone in this world, without family. And the closest people she considered friends, Sherlock, John, Marry, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, had better companies to attend to than the poor mousy Molly.

_What is Sherlock doing this Christmas?_ She recalled the Christmas she spent in Sherlock's flat, how he embarrassed her and then apologized to her. She recalled the time Sherlock stayed with her in her flat. How he barricaded himself from her. _One should think I kinda mean something to him, _she thought bitterly._ But the truth is, he never bothers to at least think about me when he doesn't need my help. Never._

888

Sherlock and Mycroft smoked together. It was the rare time they bonded as siblings. Their mother scolded them for smoking and the two boys mischievously giggled. Sherlock breathed heavily as both tried to stop giggling. _What is she doing on Christmas?_ He suddenly thought.

_This is the time_, Sherlock thought as the plane took off. He killed a man and even his brother couldn't pull anything beyond exiling him. He didn't regret it at all. If he had to kill Magnussen all over again, he would.

_Six months he said, _Sherlock thought about what Mycroft had told him about the undercover assignment._ Hell knows I will never set foot in England again. At least not alive._ A pang of hurtful brutal truth delivered a sheer moment of pain to Sherlock's heart. Yes, he heard rumors that Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes didn't have hearts to hurt or shatter. And no, he most certainly wasn't afraid of the 'death sentence.' But he couldn't help to think about the people who'll certainly miss him, hurt about him being not present. John, Marry, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mom and Dad, even Mycroft. And there's also… Molly.

888

Did you miss me?

Did you miss me?

Did you miss me?

Molly gapped at the television screen that broadcasted the image of Jim Moriarty. _Oh, dear God, it's not really happening. _

Molly stoned in front of the telly, thought about the time when she and Sherlock planned and realized 'the fall'. Molly shivered a little. Moriarty must've learned that she helped Sherlock. _Am I in danger?_ Molly shook her head to clear her mind.

"Did you miss me?" Molly turned around, surprised as a familiar voice broke her train of thought.

Jim Moriarty's cat like movement caught her by surprised. Like a mouse that became paralyzed by a cat's aura, Molly didn't have the time to react. "Oh dear mousy girl, who'll save you now?" he snarled as he trapped her to the wall.

Molly gazed Moriarty with an intensity she didn't know she dared. She was scared and surprised, but there were no one there to help her, so she knew that she didn't have chance otherwise. If she were about to die, she would want to face death with bravery.

"What do you want, Jim?" she asked coolly (at least that's what she hoped she sounded). Alas, her shaken voice betrayed her. She maintained eye contact with the man so dangerous that Sherlock Holmes had to die once to get rid of – the man who once had her affection as the funny and generous Jim from IT.

"Ooh… Pretending to be brave, aren't we?" Moriarty stroke Molly's cheek with his fingers. She flinched, but held her composure and stayed still.

Moriarty pulled Molly's hair mercilessly and whispered, "How dare you ruin my game with Sherlock, Molly?"

"Just because he said: you count -" he said in a mocking tone – "you crawled in your pathetic leg and do as he said. Why are you so stupid, woman? You didn't mean anything for him. He just used you, the way he used that stupid girl, Janine. Sherlock Holmes doesn't have a heart to care."

Moriarty stopped short. Molly felt pain in her scalp where Moriarty pulled her hair. Her neck contorted upward and it started to stiff. But Molly just looked at Moriarty in the eyes. _Whatever_, she thought about what the man had just said. _It's not like I haven't already known all the things he said. What does he hope me to do? Cry? Does he hope I will be hurt and cry from that?_

"On second thought," he suddenly released Molly's hair, stepped back and continued with his remark. "There was a woman whom Sherlock held affection to. Have you heard about her, Mouse? Have you?!" He yelled at her because Molly just looked at her without answering.

Molly flinched and shook her head in response. "I haven't," she said.

"Ooh, she is the loveliest of creature. Her name is Irene Adler. She is… well, the most suited woman for Sherlock, really," Moriarty rattled on. "He even went to Pakistan, in an undercover mission, to save her life. Pakistan. To save her life. What do you say, Mouse? He went half of the world to save Irene. And that was after she betrayed him and nearly beat him to pulp. But you… He just left and disposed you after he had no use of you. He doesn't save you now, does he?"

_Hmm, was I supposed to be jealous?_ Molly sighed, answering Moriarty mentally. _It did very little to my already shattered heart, really, Jim. I know that Sherlock has a heart. He cares deeply about John. And I'm not surprised, really, about Irene Adler. I knew there was a woman whom Sherlock held dear, though I've just found out her name from you. Surely you can do better than this to crush me, Jim. _

Molly involuntarily chuckled. Moriarty eyed her. For the first time he seemed… confused. "Do you find it funny that you about to die, Molly?"

It was for the first time he called Molly by her name. "I'm sorry. No, I just… don't understand why you told me all of that," she spoke softly, trying to appeal to Moriarty's non-existence humanity. Molly, being faced with the reaper himself, couldn't bear to not be polite.

Jim Moriarty eyed her. He walked towards Molly and examined her face. "Interesting," he said. "I have a feeling that you are not scared of me. Do you take me lightly, Molly?" he asked.

"No, no," Molly answered. "I – Well, I don't really know what to do. I mean, I'm scared of my life, of course. Do you think I should scream or…"

"No, that will be unsightly," Moriarty cut.

"Yes, yes, of course. Unsightly. Umm… Well… It seems like you are trying to make me jealous and hate Sherlock, maybe?" Molly traded carefully. "I just don't know what you would achieve from that. I'm really sorry…" Molly hurriedly added when she watched Moriarty's face darkened.

"Really…" Moriarty moved to close the gap with Molly. Molly forces herself not to flinched or backed out. He reached Molly's braid and untied it. Moriarty slid his right hand in Molly's hair and watched as it slipped smoothly through his fingers.

"You've changed," he said. If Molly hadn't been too scared of getting killed, she would've notice that Moriarty's voice - the man she'd known as Jim from IT – dropped an octave and his pupils dilated so that their brown shade turned dark. "You weren't like this when we dated."

Molly didn't take the bait. "Hmm…" she responded non commenting.

"I'm not gay," Moriarty whispered into Molly's ear.

"I know," she answered coolly.

"Go on a date with me?" he asked.

"And if I won't?" Molly asked back.

"Maybe I will kill you," he answered. Moriarty grabbed Molly's wrists with one hand and forcefully pushed her hips towards him with his other hand. Without permission he invaded Molly's lips, brutally kissed her. He bit Molly's lower lip. Molly flinched and felt her wrist twisted mercilessly in response. The pain caused by his biting and twisting made Molly's tears involuntarily dropped. Yet she stayed as still as possible.

Moriarty released her. He licked his lips, wet from Molly's tears and blood. Moriarty smiled devilishly as she looked at his 'work'. Molly's lips bleed and swollen and there were tear and fear in her eyes.

"You don't fight and none will fight for you. Oh, I will have a good time playing with you, Molly. And what's its name - that fat fur ball of yours? Tobby isn't it?" Molly's blood rushed to her face as Moriarty slipped Toby's name.

"No," she whispered. "Please don't."

"He's all you have isn't he?" Moriarty hissed. "Don't worry. As long as you play a good girl, I won't harm him. Prepare for my conjugal visit, will you? You will enjoy it, too. Promise." Moriarty winked and walked away.

Sooo…. What do you think? Write and review is the right thing to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the reviewers and followers. Moriarty is really evil, isn't he? Alas, we luurve bad boys! Sooo… Let's roll.**

Molly froze after Moriarty had gone. She touched her beaten lip and suddenly horror and fear rushed all over her body. For the first time in her life Molly feared a man so much she couldn't do anything to fight back. It was the survival instinct. Had she tried to fight, Moriarty must've killed her and maybe other people in Bart.

Molly knew that Moriarty wanted to get back to her. He wanted revenge to people who helped Sherlock. And with Mycroft out of the table, Molly was the biggest target. Molly felt her body shook. The budding frustration, fear and helplessness swept her mind. Her knee felt weak and she stumbled down and cried.

Molly often took the night shift because she was mostly always available. And the morgue room of St. Bart had been her sanctuary, her temple, the place where she felt safe the most. And now Moriarty had shattered that place with his horrible presence and the painful experience he gave her. She was scared to be there. In fact, Molly was scared to go home – to be everywhere. If Moriarty could come and go as he pleased to Bart, he could come and get Molly wherever she was.

Another horror swept over Molly. Toby! Oh my God, Toby! Molly was never the one to ditch her responsibility. It wasn't the end of her shift, but she needed to get to Toby. Her cat always home alone. There was nobody to take care of him. Toby was independent and smart and he seemed to hate most people, so every day Molly just need to make sure Toby had his food and she was good to go to work.

Molly ran to the lobby and caught the first cab she saw. "Hover Street," she said. Was it her voice that was so shaken and scared?

The cab ran smoothly through London's night. Molly almost considered to go the nearest police office. But she remembered that there was little police, or everyone except Sherlock really, could do regarding Moriarty. What could she say anyway? Moriarty, the super villain, bothered to go after her, yet she was still pretty much alive? Maybe they will take her to custody for her safety. But she couldn't do that without Toby. They won't bother to think about Toby, will they?

Molly was so at lost in her thought that she didn't realize they had reached her destination. The cab stopped just in front of her flat building. Did she inform the driver which building she went to? Molly looked at the rearview mirror and found that the driver looked back at her. She gasped softly.

"Please don't do anything useless, Miss Molly," he spoke in a monotone voice. "I was just ordered to take you here. Master didn't want you to act rashly or against his better judgment. Well, now I can report that Miss Molly is indeed a smart and good girl who only wants to make sure that her little pet is safe. I can assure you that he is safe. For now."

Molly hurriedly opened the door and got out of the cab. She was still shocked but she found her strength to walk up to her small flat. Her hand shook so bad when she tried to open the front door. Molly turned on the light. "Toby!" she called. Molly didn't recognize the hoarse voice that came out of her throat.

Toby showed up and mewed. Molly rushed to him and hugged him. "Oh, Toby," Molly chuckled when her cat snuggled to her chest.

Molly's phone rang. It was a very loud voice. She didn't remember setting it to be that loud. Molly picked up the phone; there was a notification for a message.

_Oooh, I so envy the pest who can snuggle so close to your breast. I would love to do that, too. JM_

Molly shook her head in disbelieve. Did Moriarty bug her flat with a camera? There was another message.

_Tell you what, I bugged your flat with cameraas... That's because I want to always see you, Molly. Please don't bother to search, you won't find them. Oh, and if you try to call Sherlock Holmes, the love of your life, your knight in shining armor, you won't be able to, because he is out of picture now. And if you try to call John Watson or Greg Lestrade, please just don't waste your time. I hate to see something happen to Toby. He was always nice when I'm around. JM_

Again, he did it again. He knew her weak spot. She couldn't run away from him. Moriarty had made it his mission to take his revenge towards her. And what did he mean by Sherlock was out of the picture? Sure, maybe Sherlock wouldn't even care about her now that Moriarty was back and he needed to concentrate fully to – once again – get rid of the evil man. But Sherlock will fight him. _Surely by now he has known that Moriarty is back, _Molly thought. _Humanity is not so hopeless after all_. _When Sherlock destroy him, I will be safe._

Molly's breath calmed as she thought about Sherlock. _I believe that Sherlock will eventually take down Jim once again._

Against Moriarty's suggestion to not search the cameras, Molly searched them. But he was right. She couldn't find even one. Molly was so tired. She needed bath so badly but was too scared to take a bath.

Molly stumbled to her bed, didn't bother to change clothes. I will take a bath in Bart tomorrow, she thought. Not long after that she got into a deep slumber.

She dreamt of Sherlock. He was so far away. Molly tried to reach him, called for help because she was sought by a creature from hell. But the detective didn't hear. He kept walking, talking happily with the most beautiful woman she's ever met. The creature from hell caught her and killed her.

Molly woke up as two cold hands grabbed her neck. Someone was choking her and when she woke up Moriarty was on top of her, eyes filled with lunacy.

Molly tried to fight back but Moriarty out strength her. "Shh… Don't do anything unnecessary, Molly. I promise it'll feel good." Moriarty pull both of Molly's hand and handcuffed them to Molly's bed head.

"What do you want?" Molly gasped in horror.

"I've already told you, haven't I? I want to snuggle at your breasts." Moriarty skillfully ditched Molly's lab coat and started to unbutton her blouse.

Molly watched the man, trying to grasp the situation she was in. _Is Moriarty trying to rape me?_ She hoped that the man just kill her already.

"Just kill me already!" She shouted at the top of her lung. Moriarty just smiled devilishly and continued to undress Molly.

He made a gesture for Molly to stay silent. Moriarty pointed to her living room and made a gesture of someone sleeping. "What did you do to Toby?" Molly asked. Her voice betrayed her so bad, shaking like crazy. A soft sob came involuntarily from her lips.

"He's just asleep. Nothing harmful, my dear. Don't cry…" If Molly hadn't been too scared, hopeless and angry, she could've noticed that Moriarty almost sounded… sincere… saying the last sentence.

Moriarty jerked Molly's blouse open as he finished unbutton it. His eyes became dark as he intently examine Molly's small frame. She wore a white cotton bra, nothing sexy or alluring. But Molly knew that rape was seldom a matter of sex. Rape was about power and control. It was the way to degrade, to take revenge, to hurt.

Moriarty touched Molly's neck gently. If he hadn't been the most notorious and evil man in the world, one could've thought that he had been careful and that he had taken a liking at what he saw. He rolled his finger gently along her left collar bone, to her pale shoulder. He touched Molly's bra strap and slowly pulled it down. Moriarty enjoyed the view of Molly's small breast slowly uncovered. He glided his hands along the small mound.

"You know, Molly. I think that you have the hots for psychopaths," he continued. "Oh, yes. You've been a nice and good girl all your life, but you love being tortured. Your body cannot lie, Molly. I know what's happening beneath those respectful layers of clothes. If I slipped my fingers inside your vagina right now I bet my entire evil kingdom that it is wet like crazy. Yes, I can see your excited nipples. I can hear your aroused breath when I went rough on you. You like being in danger, Molly?"

Molly stayed very still. She felt blush crept up her face. What Moriarty described was not true, but not entirely false. She realized that she wasn't totally immune from some… chemical reaction. Moriarty was after all someone who once filled her days with love, before she knew it had been all lie. And she sincerely liked Jim from IT who was sensitive and intelligent.

But it wasn't true that she was filled with desire, or wet and ready for him. No, Molly didn't feel that way. She was absolutely sure that she was scared. Yet she could help feeling some kind of security when the man backed up from what he did earlier. She felt… safe around him. It felt like he wouldn't harm her. Molly kept telling herself that harming her was the only purpose Moriarty had in his mind. But he didn't. he coul've hurt her or kill her or kill Toby to hurt her. But he didn't do it. She really didn't know what it was that Moriarty wanted from her, but it wasn't to harm her.

_Sherlock. Does he want to hurt Sherlock by hurting me. Well, Sherlock may not fell any sort of romantic emotion towards me, but he will feel guilty if I'm dead because Jim kill me, won't he? But then why didn't he kill me already. It almost feels like he is just… spending time with me. _

Molly drifted away with her train of thought that screamed as Moriarty bent down and kissed her mound. He was taken aback as Molly jerked her body.

"Just kill me already!" she screamed. "Sherlock will kill you!"

Moriarty's eyes became impossibly darker. He slapped Molly in the face. "Don't utter his name!" he shouted.

Molly gasped as she felt the stinging pain across her cheek. The horror came rushing back and the calmness she felt was gone. _I will not cry_, she mentally determined. She glared to Moriarty.

"You will not scream again," Moriarty warned. "And don't mention Sherlock. He will not save you. Don't mention his name again! Do you understand? Are you so stupid to think that he will ever care about you even for a little? You are nothing for him. Nothing!" He shouted angrily.

"Fine," Molly curtly replied.

"Killing you? What's the fun in that?" Moriarty laughed like mental. "No. No. There are things more insufferable than death, Molly."

He snared and moved from his position above her. Moriarty un cuffed Molly and made her sit. he said, smiling cynically. "I don't need to rape a woman to get sex. But it's true, though, that I would like to have sex with you. With your consent, of course. "

Molly just sat in silence, afraid that Moriarty would have resorted to violence again if she had been to reply or talk.

"I am sorry if I scared you, Molly." Moriarty suddenly kneeled in front of her, reaching for her hand. He cupped Molly's hand inside his own and sought for her eyes. He traces his fingers on her red cheek, swollen from his slapping; her lips, torn from his biting and to her eyes, teary from the pain he caused her.

Molly eyed him suspiciously, confused because of the reversed behavior. She flinched from the touch. Moriarty spoke, "Don't fight me, Molly. Just be good. Please."

Moriarty stood up slowly. He leaned towards Molly so slowly. Molly prepared herself for more abusive kiss, but what he gave her was neither a kiss of revenge, nor lust. He kissed her so softly as if trying to make amend, to cure the pain he had caused before. Against her better judgment, Molly closed her eyes.

888

"To St. Bart, and quickly!" Sherlock almost jumped from the airplane's door as he was back from his "exile."

"I guess you did not gave her a proper security, did you, Mycroft?" Sherlock spoke at the phone to his brother as John was driving. Mary looked worried.

"Well, never in my wildest imagination that he will be back," replied Mycroft. "Alas, you've learned your lesson, haven't you dear brother mine? Sentiment is a disadvantage. Your prime task right now is to make sure you stop Moriarty for good. Even if some… casualties may occur."

"Dear brother mine, you can suck your own dick," Sherlock answered. "Sent your best men to Bart and make sure that Molly Hooper is safe!"

"What was that?" John asked.

"Mycroft being himself," answered Sherlock.

"Will Molly be ok?" Mary asked John, whispering. Sherlock has lost in his "zone" and she didn't want to interrupt the super sleuth while he was planning to topple the most notorious villain in human history.

John grimed. He really hoped so. But they were hours behind. And Molly didn't have anyone to go to. Suddenly he felt guilty because – again – he forgot to inform Molly about Sherlock's exile.

"She will be ok," John answered.

_What if something happened to her? I cannot continue to live if something was about to happen to her._ Sherlock, for the first time in his life, didn't dare to face a future. _She was the most vulnerable right now. What was I thinking? No, why didn't I think about her? I should've prepared guard for her. Hell, I should've informed her that I was going to be exiled. She deserved to know at least that much. What was I thinking? Shit, what was I thinking!_

"She is not in Bart, Sherlock." Mycroft inform as his brother picked up the phone. "She is at her flat. And…"

"I know." Sherlock hung up the phone. "To Molly's flat, John," he said. "Moriarty has reached her. I need to know what he wanted."

"What? Moriarty is now at Molly's flat?" John nearly shouted.

"I don't know. But Moriarty reached Molly when she was still in Bart. Molly's shift doesn't end until four more hour, but the fact that she was now in her flat meaning Moriarty lured her there," Sherlock explained. "She is now evidence."

"Sherlock!" Mary yelled. "Don't – don't talk about her like that! If anything she was the one who helped you. Please don't belittle her like that. She is not evidence. She IS Molly."

_I know_, Sherlock mentally answered. _I know and it pains me to think that something horrible happened to her because of me. But right now if I were to think how she might be suffering or hurt or… or worse, I couldn't think straight and it will only cause her more damage._ Sherlock looked Mary in the eyes. "I know," he said.

Sherlock maybe the super sleuth who can deduce everything about a person, but Mary was a trained assassin who can literally and figuratively smell blood. Did she just find the pressing point of the one and only Sherlock Holmes? John did tell her about how Irene Adler played him like a violin. But this… Molly didn't even mean to, yet Sherlock nearly driven to insanity because of her.

888

Moriarty was gone. Molly sat silently in her small living room. Toby was sedated, but breathing calmly. _Did I kiss Jim back?_

A sound of key being unlocked woke her senses. "Molly…" A woman's voice was heard.

Sherlock Holmes entered the room and saw Molly, lost, definitely hurt, hugging her cat. Sherlock felt a wave of relieve swept him. The knot that tortured his stomach disappeared and the endorphine and adrenaline rushed to his brain. She was alive.

John Watson witnessed a smitten Sherlock. He witnessed an 'engaged' Sherlock. Hell, he witnessed an aroused Sherlock (he still couldn't ditch the image of 'foreplay' that Sherlock and Irene played in front of him). But when he watched Sherlock kneeled in front of Molly, caressing her head with a softness John didn't knew the man was capable of, whispering repeatedly that she was now safe; he was here and he wouldn't leave her again, John realized that Sherlock Holmes in front of him was the man who was in love with woman.

**What does Sherlock have to offer to our beloved Miss Hooper? Read and review is the nice thing to do, folks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well people, when we are faced with options in the form of two super sexy and handsome psychopaths, there's a great chance that we, too, will act a little out of our mind. What does faith have in store for Miss Molly Hooper? Let's roll.**

"Sherlock…" Molly whispered to the man in front of her. Is it really him? Am I delusional? Molly wanted so bad to touch the man, but she was afraid that he would disappear – like he used to do.

"Yes, Molly. This is me," Sherlock answered. _What is this feeling?_ Sherlock thought. He acknowledged the feeling or relieves that swept all over him when he saw that Molly was alive. She was still breathing and she whispered his name. Of course he was relieved that Molly was alive. It was because of helping him in the first place, that put the girl in danger.

But there were so many unfamiliar feelings that Sherlock felt right now. There it was again, a feeling of… being punched in his liver, pain so sharp and uncomfortable that he felt when looking at the battered face of Molly's. Her bottom lip was torn and her cheek had a new developed bruise, a little swollen with red-purple-ish color. Sherlock felt like he wanted to grab Moriarty's neck and break it with his bare hands.

"Sherlock, let me see Molly," John touched Sherlock's shoulder and asked for access to examine her. He looked at her and realized that Molly's torn lip had been caused by a biting.

Molly looked at Mary and then to Sherlock. _Is Sherlock really here?_ "Is-is Sherlock really here, John?" she whispered.

"Yes- yes, he is," John answered. He checked Molly's eyes. She was drugged.

"We must take her to the hospital, Sherlock," John said. "She was drugged. We need to know what kind of drug it is. I think her cat was also sedated."

Mary took Toby from Molly's hand. "Wh-what are you going to do to Toby? Please don't hurt him. He's all I got." Molly barely whispered. Her voice chocked inside her throat.

The pain in Sherlock's chest multiplied. He realized that he didn't know anything about the woman who had given him so much, much more that he ever deserved. Yet he never bothered to get to know her. He spent a few days in her flat, heck, he spent many hours working with her in the morgue for years, and he didn't even know, until then, that she was all alone, that the cat was all she had.

Sherlock remembered how Molly pampered the cat when he was there. She genuinely loved him. Well, she always genuinely loved everyone. He was a somewhat nice cat, always stayed quiet and had a good manner. He would stare at Sherlock curiously, yawned and took a nap away from him. It was as if he knew that Sherlock didn't care about him or his owner, so he didn't want to trespass his boundary.

He was… very much like Molly. Molly would come quietly and sat at the sofa. Once she had tried to invite Sherlock in a conversation, bringing home a lot of food – like every normal and civilized human being would do when there was guest in one's place. But Sherlock rejected it. He demanded her – politely if he may defend himself – to stay away from him, to not bother with hospitality. She was dejected, but wise enough to gracefully stutter and said she understood. She never spoke to him again but she made him food every day, until he went and left her a thank you note.

"No, bring her to Baker Street," Sherlock commanded.

"What? No. No. We need to get her to the hospital, Sherlock," John repelled.

Mary touched her husband's arm. "John, let's just get Molly out of here, ok? Let's take her to Baker Street. I'm sure we can take care of Molly there."

John wanted to refuse his wife's suggestion, but Mary moved her head, signing John to look at Sherlock. The detective kneeled back in front of Molly. "Molly… you're coming with me home, ok?" he said.

Molly stayed silent for a moment. "Sherlock… It's really you…" she whispered. She touched Sherlock's cheek very gently; as if afraid he would break and disappear. "Please help To…by…"

John moved swiftly as Molly fainted. He held Molly's back and gasped. Molly was wearing a black silk pajama. When Mary remembered again after that incident, she realized that it wasn't like Molly to wear such luxurious apparel. No, the pajama was Moriarty's gift. And it was black to hide the gruesome truth that he had sliced Molly's back - marking her – and then left her bleeding and sedated. John didn't particularly close to Molly and neither did Mary, but when both of them looked at John's hand covered in Molly's blood, they vowed that Moriarty have to die for what he had done.

Sherlock pushed John away and carried Molly. He nearly jumped downstairs to the lobby. Mary who was 8 months pregnant tried to catch up with John's help.

They were very grateful that John parked just outside the building. Sherlock and Molly were already inside the car by the time Mary and John caught up. John jumped to the car and drove away immediately.

"Sherlock…" he started.

"I know," the taller man cut him. "We will take her to the hospital."

John nodded. There was no way they could treat Molly in Baker Street knowing that she was abused by Jim Moriarty.

Toby woke up from his sedation and mewed softly. He seemed confused, but upon seeing Moly he struggled from Mary's lap to be with his owner.

Mary stroked his head softly and whispered. "No, baby. You cannot be with Molly right now. She is very sick and we need to get to the hospital so the doctor can make her feel better. You understand?"

Toby seemed understand. He watched Molly intently yet not making any attempts to jump from Mary to her. He looked at Mary and Mary could swear that his look was a plead to make Molly better, because after all, the only one they had were each other.

888

Jim Moriarty sat comfortably in his hideout, the place that he loved to call "lair". He watched intently and with amusement the scene happening in Molly's flat. The trio, as he called them, came just at the time he planned them to come.

Even though he spent a great deal of time to convince Molly that Sherlock Holmes didn't care for her and wouldn't lift a finger to help her, he knew pretty well that the detective would come for her. Sherlock was no angel, but he was most definitely not demon. Moriarty knew that Sherlock would come to rescue her, not out of care or affection, but out of responsibility and thanks.

_It will give Molly hope_, he thought. _And Sherlock will – once again – crush her poor little heart. Oh, yes he will. He will stomp on her heart like he always does. And this time Molly will not heal. She will be crush and broken from the terror I gave her. Hope, oh how the thing called hope, a positive sentiment, could do greater damage than hate or another negative sentiment? But the hopes that crushed over and over… will devastate even the strongest of heart. _

_And by then I will wrap her around my finger. I will take her away and make her mine forever. She won't run. She won't be scared of me. She will love, adore and have eyes only for me. And we will make love every day. She'll stay by me every day. And I will love her until the day that I die. _

Because in his sick and tormented soul Jim Moriarty was vulnerable, that was why he hated Sherlock. He hated the fact that the detective had people who cared for and loved him. He hated the fact that Sherlock had a best friend. But most of all he hated the fact that there was a woman who was kind, strong and brave enough to love Sherlock, unconditionally, without ever had the need to abandon him or hate him even when faced with various incidents where Sherlock showed no regards or even mercy towards her. And Moriarty hated the fact that if Sherlock wake up from his stupidity, see the great woman that Molly Hooper is and decide to settle with her, he will have a wonderful, wonderful life. Moriarty knew that Molly Hooper would complete Sherlock Holmes.

At first it was pure out of spite why he decided to pursue Molly Hooper. He miscalculated her and she defeated him. He wasn't defeated by Sherlock Holmes; he was defeated by Molly Hooper, with her pure and innocent heart, always ready to sacrifice.

And Moriarty had hot for people who surprised him. That's why – in a sense – he kinda had hot for the Holmes brothers. But in a woman, he never had such experience. Most of them were just there to satisfy him. Even Irene Adler, who was so very surprising and captivating for Sherlock Holmes, with her stunning beauty, wit and… vast knowledge on how to inflict pleasure and pain, did very little to surprise him. For Sherlock Holmes maybe Irene was _The Woman_ – and Moriarty was forever grateful to that fact – but for him there was only one woman he ever needed, _His Woman_.

He remembered how Molly, in her trance stance, softly kissed him back, as if her life depended on it. Moriarty knew right then how hard her life must've been. Falling in love and rejected over and over. Falling for the man who cannot reciprocate her feeling. Falling hard and fast for Sherlock Holmes.

Cruel jealousy hit him hard that maybe Molly Hooper dreamt about kissing Sherlock Holmes while she was kissing him. That's why he branded her. _She will only be mine._

Moriarty's heart skipped when he saw Sherlock Holmes – not John Watson – kneeled in front of her. Sherlock stroked her hair, Molly's hair, _His Woman's_ hair. Moriarty had been so sure that John Watson, the tender heart doctor, was the one who would've examined Molly, found out that she was injured, and carried her to the hospital. He had been sure that Sherlock Holmes would've stay behind, cool and composed, without a single feeling attached, just cold determination, to seek for evidence. After all, Moriarty had been kind hearted enough to leave a lot of traces and evidence for Sherlock Holmes to play with, while Moriarty will play with Molly.

So the fact that Sherlock Holmes was far less than composed when he found out that Molly had been injured, that Sherlock Holmes rushed Molly to the hospital without any regards to do forensics in her flat, delivered shivers of confusion, rage and jealousy inside Moriarty's heart. A sick and lunatic man he was, he didn't like one bit about the fact that Sherlock Holmes gave Molly the attention she very well deserved.

_Did I make another mistake?_ Moriarty didn't like the possibility that he – once again – miscalculated. _Maybe it's time to bring the big gun. _

"Bring Irene Adler back to England immediately!" Moriarty ordered one of his networks.

888

"Sherlock, I think you should eat something," Mary spoke to the lost man who sat nervously in the hospital waiting room.

"Why hasn't she woken up yet?" he asked Mary.

"She was hurt and traumatized, Sherlock," Mary answered.

"She should know how to maintain the trauma and shock," he said. "In my Mind Palace she was the one to hint me on how to maintain my compulsion to avoid shock after you had shot me."

Mary had the grace to feel embarrassed. "I'm sure she is just tired, Sherlock. Facing a dangerous psychopath is apparently not for everybody. And Molly is not… us," she finished.

"She's awake, Sherlock," John's voice came from behind Sherlock. He is still in his doctor outfit.

"Was it bad?" Mary asked John.

John grimaced at the thought of Molly's deformed back. She would bear the mark Moriarty gave her for the rest of her life.

"She was still on morphine right now, but she will experience excruciating pain once she's off," John said.

"Can I talk to her?" asked Sherlock.

"What would you want to ask?" John carefully asked. Knowing Sherlock, he would ask Molly to experience again the whole ordeal with Moriarty. John couldn't let Molly go through that phase at this moment.

"I would like to ask her about the detail about Moriarty," Sherlock answered.

John sighed. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I can't allow you to do that. Molly is still traumatized."

"Why does everyone consider Molly Hooper as a weak woman?" Sherlock snapped. "Apparently none of you know anything about her. Molly Hooper is very strong, I tell you. Just let me see her and ask her if she can handle my questions. Please. We don't have much time with Moriarty."

John glanced at his wife for suggestion. Mary nodded. "Alright. But if Molly say that she cannot answer, you will back off," John warned his best friend.

"Sure," Sherlock agreed.

Sherlock didn't know that his heart could be so painful just to look at a state of a person. Molly looked small and fragile. Her face was bruised and lip torn, yet she smiled at them when she saw them came in.

"Thank you all very much for helping me," she said.

Sherlock had to fight the unreasonable urge to hug her and tell her that he would never let her be alone anymore. _What the bloody hell was that?_ He mentally scolded himself.

"Are you feeling better, Molly?" he asked.

Molly nodded. _Yes, just by hearing the sound of your deep baritone voice makes me a lot better_, she thought. And suddenly felt very shy about her infernal inside response. "I – I am," she answered.

"Do you think you can answer some questions?" Sherlock smiled sweetly.

Molly bit her lip. _There it was. The business smile Sherlock always wears when he needs something and feels like he has to manipulate me to gain what he wants. But then again, I was the one who offered him unconditional help. And I cannot back off right now, not with many people's life on the line because of Jim's revival. _

"Of course," she answered with a smile. "What do you need?"

Sherlock felt silent. Her hearty reply made him remember the day she said she didn't count, when she said that alas she would give him anything he need, anything at all. It was just a simple line. From most people, it could be just a lip service. But Sherlock knew first hand that Molly is not most people. She was one of the kinds. She was – like he said to John – kind, brave and strong. She was the kind of woman whom a man would be proud to call wife. Sherlock grimed. He didn't like one bit to imagine that one day some idiot would be that lucky bloody bastard – Molly's husband.

Molly attentively looked at him, waiting, a little confused as to why the detective seemed not as concentrated as usual. "Sherlock…" John spoke.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock got back on earth.

Molly smiled sweetly. "For one second I guess you've got it all figured out," she said.

"No. I'm sorry, not yet," he said apologetically. "Could you please tell us exactly what Moriarty did, what he had wanted?" Sherlock asked.

Molly took a long breath. She thematically – albeit with an obvious shocked and stricken voice – told Sherlock everything. She told him everything Moriarty said and did to her, including how he told her that Sherlock would never rescue her, about Irene Adler and how he would kill Toby.

"It was my fault that I got back home," Molly said. "I should've thought that Moriarty wanted me to go there. He meant to lure me away from Bart. But I couldn't think straight because of Toby. Is – is he alright? Was the vet willing to take care of him for a few days? Of course I want to get out from the hospital as soon as possible... " Her eyes fell to John, a silent plead to be able to get charged from the hospital early. "I - I'm sorry I babbled, Sherlock," she apologized. "That – that was everything."

"Don't worry about Toby. He's fine and will stay with us meanwhile you're resting in this hospital. And of course John will release you as soon as you're really fit to go," Mary assured Molly. "Not before," she emphasized. The doctor nodded his agreement.

Molly's face fell a little. "More importantly," Sherlock cut in, "why did Moriarty do that kind of action? It really didn't make sense. It's as if Molly was the only important component he pursued. It doesn't make any sense." The detective started to walk around in the small hospital room.

"It seemed to me that Moriarty was infatuated by you," Mary addressed Molly. Sherlock stopped abruptly.

"What?! No, I think he only did that to make me hate Sherlock," Molly answered, a little shocked with Mary's premonition. She didn't tell them about Moriarty's kiss – the last kiss – the one that she subconsciously replied.

"He kissed you, didn't he?" Mary asked.

Molly wanted to argue, but was out fasted by a more eloquent argument. "That was hardly a kiss!" Sherlock shouted. "He hurt her, literally torn her lip. It was revenge because Molly helped me staged my death. He just wanted to take revenge to me. Why would he want Molly?"

Sherlock didn't realize how hurtful his comment to Molly. _Why would he want to be with someone like Molly? _Yet Molly just brushed it off like it was nothing. _He is true, though. Why would he want to be with someone boring like me? Maybe the part where Jim kissed me was just a hallucination. _Molly shifted in her bed and grimaced, the painkiller was starting to wear off; she could feel burning sensation in her back.

"Can we take the picture of your back?" Sherlock asked.

Molly nodded. Actually she was self conscious because it was the first time Sherlock would see her bare skin. But she brushed it off. She couldn't mind with anything right now. She just wanted to help stop Moriarty so that nobody else would get hurt.

"Are you sure, Molly?" John asked her. "You know that you don't have to say yes to everything Sherlock asked."

Molly nodded. "I don't want anybody else get hurt because of Jim," she said.

"Moriarty," Sherlock corrected her. For a strange reason, Sherlock didn't like the fact that Molly addressed the man with his first name.

"Yes, Moriarty," Molly agreed.

John called a nurse to help them. They peeled the bandage that wrapped Molly's body. Mary gasped. Moriarty didn't only sliced Molly's back, he also sliced Molly's chest. There was a large raging scar across her chest.

Molly closed her eyes as she saw the 'gift'. She bit her lip. _Whatever. If no one will marry me because of it, so be it. The only person I will ever love enough to marry is Sherlock anyway, so no matter what, I can not get married._

Sherlock documented the scars. His expression was unreadable. "That was all. Thanks," he said.

"Okay," Molly responded weakly. Her eyelids felt very heavy.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Molly," Sherlock said.

"Your welcome," answered Molly. She suddenly felt very tired, as if all of her energy was absorbed by a giant energy vacuum. _Is there something like that?_ Molly thought, feeling humorous. She then fell asleep with a smile across her lips.

"Oh, John," Mary clinged to her husband as the three of them walked to the hospital lobby. "Will she be really ok? Is it normal to have a reaction like that? It was like she didn't even care about what had happened to her. I don't like her reaction at all."

John nodded. "It is not normal. You are right, Mary. Nobody can act that calm. I will get the psychiatrist to observe her."

"Was there anything wrong with the way she acted?" asked Sherlock.

"Well, for women, being sliced and left deformed usually have a big impact. Molly's scars, they won't healed completely, aren't they, John?" asked Mary.

John shook his head. "No," he answered. John's heart ached imagining Molly has to wear that badge for the rest of her life.

"Really?" Sherlock tilted his head a little. "I read women love scars."

"Um, yeah, on the body of her man. Not scars in her body, obviously," said Mary.

"I have a lot of scars," Sherlock voluntarily informed.

Mary didn't know how to respond. "Well, I'm sure you'll make some woman very happy about it. If you'll ever – you know…"

"And I don't mind scars," Sherlock continued, ignoring Mary's reference about his possible virginity.

"Good… You'll make your woman very happy," answered Mary.

"My woman? Who are you referring to?" he asked.

"What? I don't know. I'm not referring to anybody, actually. I thought you just wanted to be responded," Mary felt a little shocked because Sherlock talk to her about woman.

"That is ridiculous, Mary," he scolded.

"I'm sorry. I'm so tired," she resigned.

"Mary, let's go home. You must get some rest. Sherlock, I don't think I can accompany you to… do whatever you will do." John said. "I will accompany Mary home and get back here to check on Molly. I need to make sure she was observed. I'm afraid Moriarty will try to get to her again."

Molly's stay in the hospital was not entirely bad. She loved the fact that she could rest and not think of anything. Her friends and colleagues came and gave her a lot of presents and flowers. Mary was so nice and came every day to bring her news and pictures of Toby. When in the third day John said that Molly was strong enough to go to the hospital's park, Mary brought Toby so that she could meet him.

The psychiatrist John assigned to her was also not bad. For some people talking about the trauma they experienced was not easy, but Molly actually felt relieved that she could talk about it to someone else. She hadn't experience night terrors, just a few restless sleep night that she assumed were not a very big deal because Mr. Kevin, the psychiatrist, seemed not too concerned about it. He said that Molly needed to keep seeing him for sometimes, but he didn't see anything particularly bad with her condition.

On the eight day Molly was discharged. She felt disappointed because Sherlock hadn't come after that night when he took pictures of her. _Oh, well_, she –as always – brushed the feeling away. _I have to get use about the fact that he doesn't care about me_.

Molly was packing her stuff when she found a box of chocolate candy that she loved. She didn't remember any of her friends who visited her brought it. Molly opened it and gasped. There was a letter from Moriarty.

_My love, I'm sorry that you must get hospitalized. But the mark I left you was necessary. It was to ensure that you will only be mine, that no other man will lay his fingers on you. Rest assured that I still adore you no matter what. -JM_

_P.S. I love you. I remembered, didn't I, about the chocolate you love. No other man will remember._

Reality hit her hard. _Jim would never let go of me, would he? I am his only target. That's why he didn't do anything when I was hospitalized. He wanted to terrorize me. But why? _

Molly remembered what Moriarty had done to Sherlock. He didn't simply want the detective to die. No, he didn't. He wanted Sherlock burned, devastated, destroyed. And now he wanted Molly.

**Actually I didn't intend to end it here. But, oh, well... Stay tune for the next chapter if you will. And keep those reviews coming, if you feel like it. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh Jim, why are you so psycho? But we love you anyway. **

"Molly, are you ready to go?" Tom stood just outside the door. He visited Molly the day before when John told her that she was allowed to go home the next day. He offered to take her home since he knew that Molly didn't have family member to accompany her. They decided to remain friends after their break-up.

"Oh, Tom!" Molly who was still shocked from the letter she received from Moriarty, gasped and turned around.

"What happened?" asked Tom upon seeing how dreadful Molly's state was. Her hands were shaking and her face as pale as ghost.

Molly handed him the letter she received from Moriarty. Tom read it and hugged Molly. It was a chaste hug. It was only intended to calm her. But for a detective who just came, it was a dreadful event.

"Molly!" Sherlock spoke with an authoritative voice of his.

Molly looked up to him as Tom let go of her. "Sherlock?" she asked, couldn't believe her eyes.

"Obviously," he answered. "Hello… Tom?" he greeted Molly's ex-fiancée.

"Hello, Sherlock," Tom greeted him back, friendly and without any ill-feeling, oblivious about the fact that the detective was irrationally irritated by his presence.

Sherlock ignored Tom immediately and focused on Molly. "Sherlock –" Molly handed him the letter.

Sherlock read it and looked at Molly. "I think he wants to destroy you, Molly. Like he once intended at me."

Molly nodded. "Do you think he wants to terrorize me until I go crazy? I mean, he didn't particularly want me dead, because otherwise I'll be dead. He wanted to torture me with fear."

Sherlock looked at the letter once more. _Yes, Moriarty must've wanted to terrorize her to get his revenge on her,_ he thought. Yet he couldn't really shake the feeling that the letter contained a rather sincere intention, which was Moriarty wanted Molly as a man – sick, in love man – wanted a woman.

"He won't hurt you if he cannot get near you, Molly," Tom said. His hand touched Molly's shoulder lightly – again a chaste touch, just to calm her. Sherlock glared to the man like he was out fasted in giving the comment.

"Maybe," Molly answered. "Sherlock, what about your homeless network?" she asked.

"What about it?" Sherlock responded.

"Will they be okay?" she asked. "They also played an important part in staging your fall. Most of them also knew that you're alive. Don't you think Jim – Moriarty – also wants to take revenge on them?"

Sherlock pondered. Did Molly feel concerned about the safety of people she didn't even know? Well, Molly's helping Sherlock once or twice did require her to get in touch with his homeless network. But did she really think about other people when she was faced with a grave danger herself? Sherlock felt an absolutely warm feeling that –hell if he'd ever admit – made his stomach fluttered. What made this woman so blatantly surprising?

"The homeless network is neither weak nor small. In fact they are like a kingdom without boundaries. Moriarty knows that they are hard to break. It will be like trying to get close to Mycroft. They are not my network, Molly. They chose whom to work for, for the right incentive. There's no way Moriarty will try anything funny with the homeless." Sherlock assured her.

Molly bit her lip. "Good, then," she responded. _Well, if that's the case, I can go homeless for some time. It will be safer than go back to my flat. I can find Martine, the homeless woman who once helped me delivered Irene Adler's phone from the bank_, Molly's mind worked fast. She knew that once Tom got her to her flat, she'd be all alone again.

"You can stay in my place for sometimes, Mols," Tom said unexpectedly. "You know, until Sherlock locked Moriarty away for good – or… something." Tom hesitantly finished his sentenced. Sherlock glared so intently at him as if he shouted 'Shut up!' loudly from his head. Tom didn't understand what he'd done wrong, but he knew what aggression usually meant. _Wow, Mols, I think Sherlock has come to his sense and harbor a feeling about you. Very well, I'll see if I can play it well._

"No, Tom. I cannot let you get dragged on Jim Moriarty's evil plan. Thank you, though," Molly said with a smile.

_Don't smile so sweetly at him!_ Sherlock's glare became more intent towards Tom. Tom intentionally stepped closer to Molly and held her hands. "Where else would you go, then?" he asked. _Come on, Sherlock, this is your chance._

"She's going to Baker Street, of course," Sherlock's deep voice made Molly's heart jumped.

_Did he offer me his place to stay?_ "Umm…" Molly didn't know what to say. _Maybe he just wants to interrogate me further. _

"Let's go, Molly," Sherlock turned his back.

"Sherlock!" Tom called.

The detective turned back. _Does he intend to try stealing Molly from me?_ "Yes?" he asked coldly.

"Umm… if you just need to take Molly to Baker Street to talk, well, I can wait for her in the coffee shop near you flat and I will accompany her home." Tom said.

_What?! Does this bastard think he can protect Molly from Moriarty better than me? What an insolent proposal!_ "You have no chance with Moriarty,… Tom," he said smugly.

"Yes. Maybe. I just want – need to make sure that Molly will be ok. That she will be taken care of," Tom said with the most concerned expression he could manage.

_Bastard!_ Sherlock spat mentally. _Did he not remember that their relationship was over? What the bloody hell is he doing, still carrying about my – no, about Molly like he still has utmost right to do that?_

"I don't need being taken care of, Tom," Molly said, cringing. "I have plan, really," she said.

"Unless your plan is staying in Baker Street 221B until this entire ordeal is over, it is unacceptable. Come on, Molly! Good bye, Tom!" Sherlock grabbed Molly's shoulders and guide her to walk away.

"What?!" Molly looked back at Tom, confused.

Tom gave two thumbs up and grinned at her. "Don't forget to keep in touch, Molly! I really care about you!" he shouted. _Yep, nailed it!_

888

Sherlock stayed silent during their trip to Baker Street. There were so many questions Molly wanted to ask him, but she sensed that the handsome detective didn't want to be disturbed so Molly decided to enjoy the ride and thought about Toby.

"He's fine, don't worry. Apparently he likes Mary and John. I wouldn't be too surprise if he doesn't so keen on living with you anymore," he said.

"Sorry?" Molly asked, confused.

"Your cat," explained Sherlock. "Your face softened and you smiled. You must've thought about your cat."

"Oh, yes," Molly answered. _He's cruel like always. But I'm sure he didn't mean to – not intentionally anyway_. "I'll try not to think. I know it bothers you when people are thinking while you are thinking,"  
she said.

"It only bothers me when –" Sherlock stopped. Actually he wanted to say that it only bothers him when any other human being does that. But with Molly, rather that annoyed, Sherlock actually felt intrigued and … entertained? "– when – Any way, do you feel alright?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

Molly shyly nodded. "Yes, I am. Thank you for asking," she said. She intentionally didn't offer anything more because she knew that Sherlock was just trying to be polite and he didn't really want to know the detail about Molly's well-being.

"John said that he had a psychiatrist assigned to you. Did he help?" Sherlock asked again as Molly once again looked out the cab's window.

"Yes, he did," Molly answered, smiling. "I feel a lot better."

Sherlock frowned as once again Molly looked out the cab's window. He didn't like the fact that Molly seemed unaffected by his presence. He was so used to Molly stutter and blushed when he was around and that made him unsettled when she was so distant.

"I'm sorry did I bother you? Are you angry at me about something?" Sherlock asked in a dislike tone. He felt like an evil bully at once, but he felt so unsettled and it made him scared. And throwing tantrum seemed like the only way to make Molly looked at him and cared for him again. Oh, Sherlock, poor boy.

Molly's eyes became bigger because of the surprised attack Sherlock threw. _Oh, God. Did I do something that made him angry? Did I think too loud again? Please don't be angry at me, Sherlock. _

"I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?" Molly asked. Her eyes filled with scare and concern that made Sherlock non-existence heart pained. "I – I ... Please don't be angry, Sherlock."

"It's just… It seemed you hate the fact that it was I who got to escort you. You know that you're in danger, right? Tom couldn't have given you the proper protection you need had you gone with him." Sherlock pouted, defending himself. He hated the possibility that Molly preferred that Dofus than him.

Had it been Irene Adler in Molly's place, The Woman would've slurred and seduced Sherlock for being so damn adorably jealous and insecure. But Molly had been faced with so many cruel comments, ignorance and rude actions from Sherlock that she couldn't have imagined what Sherlock had indicated between the lines.

_I don't understand. What's Tom got anything to do with it? Maybe he felt that I'm being ungrateful? Maybe Sherlock wanted to make a conversation? Oh, God, please guide me through this._ "I'm sorry if I indicated such ungrateful action, Sherlock," Molly traded carefully. "Is-is there anything I can do for you?" she smiled at him, waiting patiently for him to answer.

_There she goes again, the polite manner she always gives me when she wants to distant herself._ Sherlock couldn't shake the hollow feeling he had experienced remembering the incident when Molly truly saw him. She left him, defeated, after he had asked her "what would I need from you?" Never had he cursed himself so nastily because of that.

"Nothing. We've arrived," Sherlock said, relieved because he could escape the awkward situation. And by the look on Molly's face, she was just as relieved.

The cab driver opened the door for Molly. "Thank you," Molly said as she struggled to lift her heavy bag. The hospital provided trays for the patient so she didn't realize that her bag was too heavy for her still recovering self.

Sherlock carried her bag easily and paid the cab, looking especially annoyed. _Why didn't she ask for my help to carry her bloody bag?_ "Come on," Sherlock hurried her.

Molly's tears almost escaped looking at the detective's grim face and visibly annoyed behavior. She thought that Sherlock was annoyed and burdened by her presence. Yet she weakly smiled and thanked the man.

Sherlock's annoyance doubled looking at Molly's unsettled face. She seemed scared of him. _What the hell?! Moriarty was the one she should be afraid of. _

Mrs. Hudson welcomed them and hugged Molly. "Oh Dear, why do you look so sad and troubled? Sherlock, did you say something rude again to Molly? Oh, Sherlock, she was just released from the hospital this morning. Why couldn't you stop your rude behavior towards Molly?"

Mrs. Hudson spoke so fast and turned as fast to help Molly inside her house. Sherlock was left baffled without the opportunity to defend himself.

Molly spoke softly as they entered the dim lit hall towards the stairs that leads to Sherlock's flat. "Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock didn't say anything to hurt me, really. It was just I received another threat letter from Jim, so it was actually my own fault for being so gloomy." Molly glanced hesitantly to Sherlock who was sulking behind them.

"Moriarty," he corrected her.

"Oh, sorry," Molly apologized.

Mrs. Hudson just scoffed and refused to acknowledge Molly's advocacy. In her opinion, Sherlock had done enough damage to the petite pathologist. The landlady opened the door of Sherlock's flat and let Molly in. John, Mary and Toby welcomed her.

Toby mewed upon looking at Molly. Molly bent spiritedly to pet him and gasped as her wound made her lost balance. Sherlock dexterously swift her, unintentionally grabbing Molly's left breast as he did so.

"Oh," Molly gasped as she felt Sherlock's big hand cupped her small breast, caressing her sensitive nipple lightly. Molly looked at Sherlock's guilty face and for one embarrassing moment Molly wondered how it would feel if Sherlock intentionally fondle her breast and play with her nipple. Molly could feel her face blushed and a hot wave drown her body in ecstasy. _Oh dear God, how embarrassing_, she cursed.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock let her go quickly as if she was an object that would burn him alive.

Molly was so embarrassed and the situation became awkward. "Oh dear, I'm sure we've all seen something more vulgar," Mary interrupted the awkwardly intense situation and John couldn't look more relieved by his tactful wife.

Sherlock picked up Toby. "Sit down first," he said to Molly.

Molly sat and grinned a little because of the friction caused to her wound. Once she had settled on his sofa, Sherlock let Toby on to Molly's lap.

"Thank you John and Mary," she smiled to the couple. "You look so healthy and happy, baby," she snuggled happily at Toby's nose. Sherlock glanced jealously at the pet.

After tea and biscuits are finished, Molly straightened her back and looked at Sherlock. "Well, Sherlock. Um, do you need any more information from me?" Molly asked him, smiling.

Sherlock looked at her and said, "No, not really."

Molly looked confused. "Oh," she said. "Well then, thank you for your hospitality. Mrs. Hudson, Mary and John," Molly nodded at the three of them and pulled herself difficultly from Sherlock's sofa.

Mrs. Hudson looked at her, confused. "Sherlock, didn't you tell her? Where are you going, my dear?" she asked.

"Molly, sit!" Sherlock ordered.

"Excuse me?" Molly cringed at the tone Sherlock used. She didn't understand what had made Sherlock so cranky. He had sat there watching Molly with a contempt look in his face all the time. That, Molly could take. But she'd had enough of Sherlock's bullshit. She didn't ask him to come and pick her up from the hospital. If Sherlock hated the time he spent with her so much, then why didn't he just throw her out of his beloved apartment. She thought they were friends, but how Sherlock treated her was not the way one treated one's friend.

"Did I do something to offend you, Sherlock?" Molly asked coolly. She maintained her voice so that the other people in the room didn't have to feel too awkward.

"No," the man said, his voice was cold.

Molly glared at Sherlock, who glared back at her. "Why did you insist on going? Where would you be safer than here?" asked Sherlock.

Molly shook her head in confusion. "What are you saying, Sherlock? At some point I need to go, right? Do you need me to stay longer? If that's the case you should just say so. But you said you didn't need anything for me. I don't understand. What do you want me to do?"

_Stay here forever_, Sherlock's conscience whispered. "Shut up!" he hissed. "Not you," he addressed the baffled Molly.

John, Mary and Mrs. Hudson watched in awe at the Sherlock Holmes who was struggling so hard to tell a woman to live with him. Had the situation not been so dire for Molly, Mary would've giggled like a school girl.

"Didn't I tell you to stay at Baker Street – here, stay here – until we resort everything, that is when Moriarty is dead?" he asked.

"Do you mean I should live here?" Molly hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was embarrassing herself with the wrong assumption. It was bad enough knowing that everyone knew she was head over heel with him. But it would be worse to know that everyone knew she was fool enough to still hope for the scrap of Sherlock affection when everything that man do screamed: I'll never think about you that way.

"Yes," Sherlock said.

For a short lived beautiful second Molly had thought that maybe Sherlock did have some kind of affection towards her, but then she looked at his face and realized that the man wasn't really keen on the idea. Sherlock only felt responsible. Wouldn't it be hell for him to live with someone he saw as a bothersome burden?

_Now I have to be nice and say no_, Molly thought. She smiled sincerely to Sherlock. "Sherlock, I appreciate your concern. I really do. You are very kind hearted and I couldn't be more thankful for having a friend like you –"

"Cut the bloody crap, Molly. You don't appreciate my concern, you most certainly don't consider me kind hearted and of course you are not thankful for having me as a friend. Why would you? All I ever did was hurting you," Sherlock blurted out. "But those are not reasons to jeopardize yourself and get you killed, Molly. Be reasonable."

Molly gaped. "I – I – I considered your feeling, Sherlock," she stuttered an answer. "I would bother you if I stay here. What about Toby?" It will kill me more slowly and painfully to watch you grow to hate me.

Sherlock couldn't believe his ears. _What the bloody hell is wrong with this woman?_ Sherlock had offered her the opportunity to be close to him and she dared to say no. _Is she playing hard with me?_ Sherlock Holmes was a great detective, brilliant and attentive. But he was also practically a child. There was no way he could see that Molly wasn't playing hard. She was just protecting herself.

"Toby can stay here if needed be," Sherlock stated. "You don't have to think about my feeling or anything like that. There are things we must endure to stay alive, Molly."

Mary glared at Sherlock. Did the man just incline that he would certainly be uncomfortable, but was willing to endure it otherwise? Well, that was rude. And that was it! Sherlock certainly couldn't be trusted to convince Molly to stay. The man was too stubborn to recognize his own feeling. Sherlock was a child alright, always said terrible things to the girl he felt affectionate to. Molly's face figuratively fell so hard upon hearing the man's comment.

"Molly, let Sherlock help you," Mary interceded. Molly had, after all, just been released from the hospital and she was still in pain from the wound in her body. Mary couldn't bear to see her heart also shattered. "You can't stay alone at your flat. Baker Street is the only safe option there is."

Molly looked at Sherlock. "I – I have plans," Molly said. "Sherlock said that Ji-Moriarty wouldn't mess around with the homeless network. I can stay with them, with Martine, you know her, don't you?" she addressed Sherlock. "I don't mind sleeping in shelters for a moment." Molly looked at the four people in Sherlock's living room, praying that Mary will back her up on this. _Please, Mary. You know that I'll be falling all over again for Sherlock if this goes on_, she mentally pleaded.

"That is the most absurd thing –" Sherlock's blurt was interrupted.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Molly," Mary said. She looked at John for back up.

"No, it definitely wasn't a good idea," John agreed. "Even if Moriarty wouldn't mess with the homeless network, it doesn't mean that he will not act at all. If anything, you'd put Martine in danger, Molly." John knew that the only thing to make Molly realized was by appealing to her soft spot, which was her ever affection and love for God's creature. There was no way she would put Martine in danger because of her. "That goes for everyone on your list," said John. _I'm sorry, Molly, but by being the target of the most notorious and danger criminal, you'll be a burden to everyone you stay with._

"Ok," Molly resigned. Molly didn't want to make everyone pissed at her stubbornness. Maybe she was just reading too deep into all of this. Sherlock didn't have to meet or even see her. She could stay in Mrs. Hudson's basement.

"It's settled, then," Mrs. Hudson clapped her hand in relieved. "I have prepared your room, Dear. I'm sorry that the only place left is the basement. But I have told Jacques to bring the mattress, table and cupboard there. And the place is now very clean." She smiled.

Molly exhaled in relieved. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. It's great, really," she smiled brightly.

Mary bit her lip. "That maybe not a good idea, Mrs. Hudson," she said apologetically.

"Thank you!" Sherlock spoke. "Please explain, Mary."

"Your basement is not safe. It lacks security system and there are many loopholes. That is the worst place in this house, really," Mary said.

Mrs. Hudson looked offended, but she said otherwise. "Well, if that's the case, Molly is welcomed to be my guest. If you don't mind sharing with an old lady like me," she smiled.

Molly shook her head. "It's fine."

"Not a good idea, either," John said.

"What now?" asked Mrs. Hudson.

"Both of you wouldn't have a chance to even gasp, save for scream if you were ambushed. If Molly stays with you downstairs, you will be in danger, too, Mrs. Hudson," John explained. "Don't worry, though. I will move back the furniture from the basement."

Molly bit her lip and looked at John and Mary, avoiding Sherlock's gaze. She didn't want to see the uncomfortable face the man wore. Even though the thought of living with her definitely repelled him, Sherlock had made it his "holy duty" to make sure that Molly stayed alive. And Molly knew that he would fight her until she agreed. She knew she didn't have any choice. Sherlock didn't have to meet or even see her or Toby. They would just stay in John's room and not make any noise.

Moly nodded and said. "Thank you, John. I really appreciate that."

"Come on, Sherlock, help me," John said, grinning.

"I'll come as often as I can, Molly. Don't worry too much, ok," Mary cheered her as the two men disappeared to move back the furniture.

Molly smiled weakly. Suddenly she didn't really mind being strapped to the IV at the hospital again.

**Well, I think Tom did care about Molly and wanted her to be happy, so he decided to help her a bit. Good guy Tom. Anyhoo, if you have any idea or suggestion about what live with Sherlock would be like, you can share with me and I'll try to elaborate the suggestions into the next chapter. Read and review is the right thing to do. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Molly and Sherlock are going domestic,…Err, sorta. And what about the poor tormented Jim? Let's roll. **

"Mrs. Hudson… What did she possibly think? How could she think that Molly will be safe staying here," Sherlock grumbled as he and John opened the basement room. "Look, John, the window can be penetrated easily from outside. It is the worst possible room Molly can have, so far away from…" Sherlock stopped short.

John glanced at his best man but said nothing. _From what, Sherlock? So far away from you?_ He mentally asked. "I think Mrs. Hudson didn't think that you would expect Molly to live in your flat," John stated.

Sherlock didn't answer. He busied himself with John's bed – soon to be Molly's. _What the bloody hell did I think?_ Sherlock began to question his sanity. He felt things he had never felt and it bothered him to no end. The sight of Molly, so reluctant and unwilling to live with him really bugged him. It made him angry and… sad?

"Sherlock," John decided to have 'the talk' with Sherlock. Right then was not the time or place for John slapping Sherlock head and screamed: _You like her, damn it! Stop being so idiotic and don't make rude comments at her_. But if John hoped Molly and Sherlock to live peacefully – sort of – he needed to set some rules and guidance.

"Mmm…" Sherlock answered. "The cupboard first?" he asked.

"The cupboard first," John agreed.

The two men lifted the small cupboard and carried it to Sherlock's flat. "Don't say rude comments to Molly," John said while they pushed the furniture along the hall.

"What!?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't be rude, Sherlock. You can be very sweet to Janine and Irene. Why do you always so cruel to Molly?" he asked. "You push, I'll pull," John said when they reached the stairs.

"What are you saying, John?" asked Sherlock while pushing the cupboard. "Being good to Janine was necessary because I had to make him love me. And Irene? I wasn't good to her. I beat her alright."

"Fine, fine. Just… Don't be rude, Sherlock. All Molly has done was helping you, always. Just be civilized and try to cope with her presence. I don't think she'll bother you that much. And I know that Toby is a nice cat, so don't go bullshiting about him," John said. "After all, I think Molly also wasn't so keen on living with you."

John's word stabbed Sherlock non-existent heart. "She's the one being rude, then," Sherlock replied, offended. "All I did was making sure she's safe. And she looked so grim all the time because she didn't get to go and live with Tom!"

"What the bloody hell are you saying?" John asked. "Tom was just there because I asked him to pick up Molly. You know, before I knew that you've thought a plan for Molly. And she was supposed to stay with me and Mary."

"How could you be so stupid and not cancelling on him, John? Had I late and Molly had gone with him, who know what could've happened to her?" Sherlock felt a sudden relieved. So the Dofus was there because John, not Molly, asked him. But he was mad at John for nearly ruining his plan.

"I forgot. Sorry," John apologized. The truth was he didn't forget. In fact he intentionally set that Tom picked up Molly just at the same time as Sherlock's coming. Well, it was Mary's idea, actually. And Tom was nice and helpful about it. (Yes, they devised the plan together.)

"So, you see, I think Molly was just nervous. She told me that you demanded privacy when you stayed at _her place_. So maybe she thought that her presence will bother you. And you know she always considers other's feeling and all and not a single bone in herself made of selfishness. And truthfully, your face and attitude screamed that you hated the possibility to live with her. How do you think she'll react, Sherlock?" John said. _So, Sherlock actually bothered by the thought that Molly acted so reluctant because she actually wanted to live with Tom. That's… interesting_.

"It was her fault that she misled me," Sherlock defended himself stubbornly.

"How could anyone mislead you? You're the great Sherlock Holmes," John said. "And Molly is in a fragile condition right now. You know, being hurt, scared, hunted by a dangerous psychopath and all. So be a little more… not you."

Sherlock stayed silent as they approached the flat's door. He glanced at the nervous looking Molly as he and John continued pushing the cupboard in to John's old room.

"Feeling alright, my Dear?" Mary asked.

"Yup," John answered.

"Me too," Sherlock said to none in particular – or maybe to someone in particular.

888

Molly sneaked to her new room like a scared mouse as soon as the others went home. Sherlock had a glimpsed of the limping Molly, walked hurriedly inside the room, followed by Toby, and closed the door.

Sherlock breathed contently. _Now I can think in silence that Molly has retreated to her room. I don't need to listen to John's advice and play nice to her because we don't have to meet or see each other. I bet she'll stay forever inside that room and will not bother me at all. It will be like I'm living alone. And that's good. Yeah, that's great. Super! I can do anything I want as usual, don't need to consider a woman's presence or her need, because Molly won't bother me at all. That's the kind of woman she is._

Sherlock sat down and started thinking. Unfortunately the lack of sound or vital sign from inside Molly's room bothered him. He looked around his living room and suddenly felt particularly lonely. _Now how could I lure her to go out of that bloody room?_

Sherlock walked around relentlessly outside. Molly tried not to even move a muscle inside the room as she heard Sherlock's steps closing to her room, afraid that she might bother him with any sound at all. She sat straight up on her chair. _He must be thinking hard about defeating Jim right now_. "Shh, we cannot make any noise, baby," Molly whispered as Toby mewed softly. She scratched Toby's head and the cat lied comfortably on the bed.

Sherlock carefully leaned at Molly's door. What are they doing there? Don't they even breathe? Maybe I should check, just in case Molly fainted or something. It's not normal that a woman and a cat can be so silent. _Oh, there he goes; Toby mews_. He heard Molly uttered something to the cat. And then silence.

Sherlock moved back to his chair. He sat there for what was like hours. But in fact, it was just 15 minutes. Sherlock became unbearably impatient. _What is it that makes me feel so guilty? If Molly wants to stay in her room, she can stay. If she wants to go out, she can do so. I have nothing to do with her choice to alienate herself inside a stranger's room, without so much a book to keep her company. _

_Yes, you do_, said John's voice inside his head. _She's afraid of you, Sherlock_.

"Shut up, John!" Sherlock hissed in distress.

_Just knock on that door, Sherlock. Talk to her_, advised John's voice.

"What could I say to her?" asked Sherlock. _Really, now I'm making a conversation with my own mind in John's voice?_ Sherlock sighed.

Sherlock decided to turn on the telly. There was an ad on kitten's food. _Right!_ He immediately stood up.

Knock, knock! "Molly!" Sherlock called. There was no noise from behind the door. For a moment Sherlock felt hesitated. _What if Molly isn't scared of me? What if John was wrong and she actually doesn't want to see me? What if _my presence_ bothers her?_

But the door was opened slowly and the unsettled Molly Hooper came out. From the way she played nervously with hem of her night gown, Sherlock realized that he must've disturbed her while she was changing her clothes. Suddenly Sherlock's heart beat a little faster and he felt his stomach fluttered. _Huh? What's happening?_

_That's the chemical reaction of the disadvantage feeling you and your bother always talk about, _again the inner John stated.

_Impossible! She's wearing a bloody granma cotton lose night gown, for God's sake!_ Sherlock disagreed irrationally with his inner John. _If it was Irene, in her sexy lingerie, sleeping peacefully on my bed…_ Sherlock entered his mind palace where The Woman resided, as beautiful and stunning as usual. But what is this force that made his eyes glued at the pure, uber natural face of Molly Hooper's? She looked tired. Her eyes had black bags from the lack of sleep and there were deep lines that showed stress. Yet she looked so… enigmatic. This was the woman in her most honest and purest form. She was a woman who worked hard, lived hard and yet still be happy and made others happy.

_She's no Irene, true. Yet, here we are, baffled by the plain, pure form of Molly Hooper. _This time it wasn't John's voice, it was his voice.

_Damn!_

"Do you need anything, Sherlock?" Molly asked with a solemn face.

_Yes. You. Out of that outfit. Damn it!_ Sherlock swallowed and cleared his throat. "Where's Toby?" he asked.

Molly looked surprised with the question. She stepped back and showed the cat standing near the table, watching the two humans. "There he is," she answered.

"John said that he loves watching TV. And with my experience living with you, I can confirm that he does love watching TV. He can watch TV if he'd like. I know he's nice and won't bother me." _Really, Sherlock? That's your move? Well, what the hell. _

"Really?" Molly smiled very brightly. That smile swept away Sherlock's uneasiness. "He'd love that, Sherlock. Thank you." Molly turned to Toby and said, "you can go out and watch the telly with Sherlock, baby. Don't be naughty, ok?"

Toby mewed and walked happily out. Molly smiled at Sherlock once again. "I really appreciate it, Sherlock," she said.

Sherlock pondered. _Good, now you tell her that she, too, can sit in the living room and get out of the dreaded room!_ His voice became louder.

But like a child everywhere, Sherlock did exactly the opposite of what he'd been told, even if it was his conscience that told him. "Right," he said awkwardly before turning around and left Molly.

Molly smiled and closed the door. She had never thought that Sherlock would've considered Toby's well-being. She recalled that Sherlock once had a dog when he was a kid. So maybe he had a soft spot for animals. Molly felt a little jealous with her cat.

Sherlock watched Toby watching 'the telly'. The cat seemed happy. _What a lucky simple creature_, he thought. _Why is he so happy just by watching TV?_ Toby looked at Sherlock and mewed thankfully. A smile crossed Sherlock's lips. _They are so alike_.

The cat food ad was back on the screen and Toby mewed. He stepped closer to the TV and mewed again, as if telling Sherlock that he wanted the cat food. "John and Mary gave you that didn't they?" Sherlock asked lazily.

The room door opened very slowly. Molly came out hesitantly. She felt terrible hearing her cat mewed loudly and thought that Sherlock wouldn't like it. "Toby…" she called softly.

The cat looked at her and mewed. "I'm sorry, Sherlock," she said. She walked, limping, to the cat that refused to come to her and stayed intact in front of the TV.

Sherlock watched as Molly difficultly bent to lift Toby. She cringed. "Come on, baby, let's go back," she tried to pick up the cat. But Toby didn't want to go just yet. He wanted to watch the telly and he wanted to eat the cat food. He jumped and avoided Molly. His mewing got louder.

Molly gasped as the cat escaped from her hands. Sherlock got up from his sitting and help Molly straightened her back for he knew that she was in pain. She inhaled a deep breath to maintain her composure. "I'm really sorry, Sherlock," she looked at the man and apologized again. "He isn't usually like this."

Sherlock tried his best to look understanding, yet needed help to deal with the naughty cat. "It's fine," he smiled. Molly's heart skipped a beat looking at the man smiled at her. Sherlock's left hand was still on her back, while his right hand held Molly's arm.

Toby's mewing brought back Molly's attention. She realized that Sherlock stood very close to her. Molly stepped backward a little, didn't want to invade Sherlock's very important personal space, even though the detective himself who got close to her to help her.

Sherlock reluctantly let go of Molly, suddenly disappointed by the loss of touch. Molly looked at Toby, confused at the behavior of her cat. "I think he's hungry," Sherlock said.

"I put his cookies inside the room and he knew it. He usually knows where to look for his food," explained Molly.

"Well, I think he wants the new cat food. He started mewing when he watched a cat food ad. I think Mary and John fed him with that and he liked it better," Sherlock offered an explanation.

Molly looked at her cat and smiled sweetly, as if he were an adorable naughty child. Sherlock felt a little jealous to her cat. "I see," she said.

"Let's go and get him some," said Sherlock.

"Oh," Molly was surprised. "Umm, you want to go groceries shopping with us?" she asked.

"Yes. I guess you'll need some items yourself. And we can grab dinner afterwards," Sherlock said, smiling.

His enthusiasm surprised Molly. _Is it really happening? Will I really go groceries shopping with Sherlock Holmes_? Her heart beat so fast that she was scared Sherlock could hear. Molly shyly nodded. Somehow her anxiety and nervousness lessened by Sherlock's concern about Toby.

_Thanks, baby,_ Molly thought. Maybe with Toby around both of them can focus on the cat and tried to live peacefully.

"Maybe you want to change your clothes again?" Sherlock asked, still smiling.

Molly looked at herself and blushed because Sherlock saw her in her night gown. But she shook her feeling and told herself that Sherlock couldn't have cared less even if she'd been naked. No-not that she thought about Sherlock looking at her naked. Molly's blush deepened. But she forced herself to look at Sherlock like nothing happened and nodded. "Yes. I'll be right back," she said.

"Don't rush," Sherlock said. "You must not over exert yourself. I'll be waiting."

Molly felt like it was the morning on Christmas day, the Christmases when her parents were still around, not the Christmases when she was lonely. They went to the nearby department store and Sherlock was very nice and offered to push the trolley. They walked through the supermarket alleys in comfortable silence. Once or twice Sherlock asked if she would like a particular cheese or milk. Molly would smile and told him which one she preferred and Sherlock would put the product into the trolley. Toby was behaving nicely inside his house and only mewing loudly when they reached the cat food alley. Sherlock insisted on paying for the groceries and Molly thanked him sincerely.

Then they stopped by a small diner on the neighborhood to grab a bite. "I can cook dinner if you'd like," Molly said.

"Don't you want to have dinner outside?" asked Sherlock. "It is the place I planned on taking you. You know, after we solved crime together the other day."

"Oh, ok," Molly said smiling. Her heart warmed recalling that day. It was a wonderful day, the day that was dedicated by Sherlock for her.

_Why the hell did I bring the topic about that day?_ Sherlock cursed himself. But he watched in awe as Molly's face lit up like there she was a candle lit by him. Sherlock shamelessly wondered on how she would react if he pulled her and kissed her. And then he cursed himself even more.

888

_Molly, do you think I will let you to go on and be happy with Sherlock Holmes?_ Molly read a dreadful text in her phone as she woke up in the morning. And all the happiness she felt about last night evaporated.

**I think Tom should be given more credit. **


End file.
